


Harry Potter and the Invisible Scars [translation]

by OTPshipper98, SmilingNerdyCat



Series: some translations i guess [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 90s music, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Attacks, Battle of Hogwarts, Bottom Draco Malfoy, Bullying, Canon Compliant, Domestic Fluff, Drarry, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, First Time, Fluff, Harassment, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Hurt/Comfort, Lemon, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Secret Relationship, Self-Harm, Sensory Overload, Slash, Slow Burn, Smut, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Switching, Top Harry Potter, Trials, all was well, muggle music, this is how harry potter should have ended according to me, this story is way more than drarry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:08:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23640592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OTPshipper98/pseuds/OTPshipper98, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmilingNerdyCat/pseuds/SmilingNerdyCat
Summary: After the Battle of Hogwarts, the entire world has lost something. Some have lost their families and friends. Others have lost their innocence. But Harry Potter has lost his smile; he has lost himself. And the only other person that feels like him is, surprisingly, Draco Malfoy.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hannah Abbott/Neville Longbottom, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottom/Luna Lovegood, Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks, Seamus Finnigan/Dean Thomas, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Series: some translations i guess [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1663660
Comments: 5
Kudos: 42





	1. Prologue: The Battle of Hogwarts

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Harry Potter y las Cicatrices Invisibles](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14338215) by [OTPshipper98](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OTPshipper98/pseuds/OTPshipper98). 



> Hello! some of this chapter is adapted from Chapter 36 of Deathly Hallows, The Flaw in the Plan. It is only a small portion of the dialogue, and I will mark it with a *
> 
>  **OTPshipper98:**  
>    
> Original Author Notes:
> 
> In this fanfic, as you have might have seen in the tags, we cover some delicate topics. For safety, I’ve added the Trigger Warnings (TW) that I deemed necessary at the beginning of each chapter (self-harm, bullying, suicidal thoughts/intentions, anxiety attacks, and everything that I considered appropriate). If you think that you don’t need those TW and you don’t want to see spoilers, don’t read the notes at the beginning of the chapter. (I know that it’s difficult to avoid, but I think TW are very important. Sorry!)
> 
> Fantarts are very welcome! If you want to contact me, for that or any other reason, you can find me on Instagram (@wow_such_drarry) and on tumblr (@rockmarina) :)
> 
> Finally, if you like this story, I encourage you to leave me all the comments that you want, because it always makes my day!!! <3
> 
> Author Notes for the translation:
> 
> So! OTPshipper98 here. This fic was originally written in 2017-2018 and is the first fic I ever finished and published online. It doesn't reflect my current writing skills, but it's still very dear and important to me; and not just because it was my first, but because I poured my whole heart and emotions into this story in a very tumultuous time of my life. I'm really flattered that anyone liked it enough to want to translate it! Thank you so much, SmilingNerdyCat! 💗

Draco was crouched low, trying to escape through the main doors of the school without alerting the witches and wizards that ran through the hallways, tending the wounded. His parents were in the Forbidden Forest with the Dark Lord, Crabbe was dead, Goyle was still unconscious in front of the Room of Requirement, and he didn’t have his wand.

He could already see the door. He headed toward it, but when he was a few meters away, he came face to face with McGonagall. He raised his hands and cowered, terrified, but she didn’t attack him. Instead, she opened her mouth and started to say something, but her words were lost, drowned out by the Dark Lord’s, whose voice reverberated all around.

*“Harry Potter has died. He was killed as he ran away, trying to save himself while you all lay down your lives for him. We bring you his body as proof that your hero is gone. The battle is won. You have lost half of your fighters. My Death Eaters outnumber you, and the boy who lived is finished. There must be no more war. Anyone who continues to resist, man, woman, or child, will be slaughtered as will every member of their family. Come out of the castle, kneel before me, and you shall be spared. Your parents and children, your brothers and sisters will live and be forgiven, and you will join me in the new world we shall build together.”*

They fell into absolute silence. Harry Potter, dead? No. Impossible. It had to be a trap. Draco turned to look at McGonagall, but she was already running toward the door, just like the rest of the witches and wizards that followed. He followed them, unable to internalise what he had just heard.

They stepped outside at the same time and saw Hagrid, cradling a bundle in his arms. At his sides and behind him, rows upon rows of Death Eaters advanced, masks off and smiling, as if they had already won the war. Draco located his parents at the same time that they saw him, but he couldn’t think of a way to get to them. Just then, McGonagall cried out:

“Nooo!!”

It was a gut-wrenching sound, and it made him understand the instant that he heard it that it was true. His gaze returned, once again, to the bundle in Hagrid’s arms, and then everything happening around him seemed to explode. Potter’s friends were also yelling, and the Dark Lord advanced until he came to a stop in the middle of the circle that had formed in the exterior of the castle. But none of that mattered.

Harry Potter was dead.

A knot formed in his throat. Or maybe it wasn’t a knot, but rather a serpent that coiled inside his body. The pressure extended toward his stomach, flooding his lungs, and, for a moment, he forgot to breathe.

The boy that he had envied for years for his fame; the boy that had left his body full of scars, the boy that had just saved his life in the Room of Requirement, was gone. The war was over and Voldemort would rule.

“SILENCE!” the Dark Lord soon yelled.

He continued talking, undoubtedly gloating over the death of Potter, who Hagrid had deposited on the ground. He began to duel Longbottom, and managed, somehow, to get a hold of the Sorting Hat. But Draco couldn’t understand anything that he was saying. He could only hear the whirlwind of thoughts that was threatening to bring him to his knees. He would have to be a death eater for his whole life. He would have to be cruel, and kill, and torture, and pretend that he enjoyed it all until the day he died.

Suddenly, it all seemed too big for him. He wanted to go back to the beginning. He wanted Potter to go back to being the famous kid that had refused his friendship. He wanted his mother to send him sweets every morning. He wanted…

A sound like a roar came from the limits of the school, and, soon, a giant appeared before them. The other giants attacked and the Death Eaters broke rank. Draco had only looked away for a moment, but when he looked back at the ground, Potter’s body wasn’t there anymore.

His heart was once again beating a thousand miles per hour. In the middle of the chaos, Draco ran toward his parents, but he was hit by a stray jinx that paralysed him and made him fall and get lost in the crowd. When the spell ended, surely because whoever had cast it had died, Draco got to his feet and found that his parents were nowhere to be seen outside the castle.

He ran toward the entrance hall and, in the middle of the screams of agony and the spells and the curses cast around him, he could pick out the voices of his parents calling to him from the Great Hall. He headed there and ran inside, but what he saw left him paralysed only a few steps from the door: his aunt Bellatrix falling on her back, dead, and the Dark Lord yelling. An instant later, Harry Potter appeared out of thin air, in the middle of the Great Hall, taking off his invisibility cloak, and threw up a shield charm. Draco let out a gasp of surprise, felt his hope return. Potter was alive!

The Dark Lord and the Gryffindor looked at each other with gazes full of hatred and began to duel. _Come on, Potter,_ Draco called in his mind, eyes fixed on the boy, following every one of his movements as if his life depended on it. _Come on, finish him._

Minutes passed. Draco felt his mother’s hand grasping his forearm and saw her blond hair out of the corner of his eye, but he didn’t move to follow her because, just at that moment, Potter said a few words that struck his chest like a dagger.

*“Dumbledore’s death was planned!”*

And he continued talking. And he told them all, without diverting his gaze from his mortal enemy, that Dumbledore had ordered Snape to kill him. Draco's temple started pulsing. He had believed that Dumbledore’s death had been his own fault.

*“The true master of the Elder Wand was Draco Malfoy.”*

A chill crept down his back when he heard Potter say his name. He felt people's gazes on him, but he didn’t care, because he was busy trying to understand everything that Potter was saying.

*”But what does this matter?” Voldemort answered him. “Even if you are right, Potter, it makes no difference to me and you.” Draco clenched his jaw when he heard him say the boy's last name. “You no longer have the phoenix wand: we duel on skill alone...and after I have killed you, I can attend to Draco Malfoy.”*

His mother held him tighter by the arm, and a second, more intense chill ran through his body. He'd just heard the Dark Lord say that he was going to kill him. In that moment, Draco hoped more than ever that Harry Potter really was the Chosen One. It was his only chance.

Potter continued talking, and told them how he himself had disarmed Draco, being, therefore, the true owner of the most powerful wand that had ever existed. _Come on, Potter, you have to win. You have to destroy the Dark Lord, come on._

Only a few seconds later, he heard the duelists yell at the same time:

“Avada kedavra!”

“Expelliarmus!”

 _Only someone as useless as Potter would cast a disarming spell against the death curse,_ was the only thing that Draco had time to think before he saw the body of the Dark Lord falling, dead, to the ground.

His mother pulled at him, and that time Draco followed. They arrived at a corner of the Great Hall, where his father was curled on the ground, and they sat down beside him. Draco had barely processed the fact that Harry Potter had just killed the Dark Lord, but now he had to think about his family. His father was wounded, his mother was crying, and Draco was soon enveloped in a hug. It was the first one that Lucius had given in many, many years.

They stayed there. Draco had thought that they would try to escape, but, apparently, surrender was their only option if they didn’t want to spend the rest of their lives in Azkaban.

And so they waited.


	2. Azkaban

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: feelings of anxiety, vomiting, and mentions of gore scenes that take place in the Deathly Hallows. 
> 
> thanks again to OTPshippper98 for letting me translate your fic and for all of your help <3

And they waited. Everyone was busy reuniting with their family and friends, and for a moment no one paid them any attention. Draco saw someone carrying the Dark Lord’s body away.

Draco was beginning to relax, at the realisation that everything was over, and that he was safe, when a group of aurors approached and surrounded them. He followed his parents’ example and kept his head down, didn’t look any of the witches and wizards in the eye as the aurors told them to get up, and cuffed them with magic. They took away the wand his father had stolen and came over to take Draco’s and his mother’s as well, and found that, as they had said, they didn’t have any. Then the aurors took them out of the castle and walked with them to the limits of Hogwarts, where they disapparated. 

After a few seconds of vertigo, Draco could lift his gaze, and immediately tried to free his hands. The auror dragging him tightened his grip and forced him to continue moving toward some boats floating on the shore of the deserted beach. Even though he couldn’t see it, Draco supposed that they were headed toward the most horrible prison to ever have existed. 

“You have a right to a jury,” the auror walking his father suddenly spat out. 

“Yeah, but I don’t get why they bother. They should leave ‘em in here. They definitely could,” the one taking him laughed. 

“Shut up, Will,” said the woman. “Lucius, Narcisa, and Draco Malfoy: you have the right to a disciplinary audience that will occur in the Ministry of Magic. Until your trial, you’ll be considered suspects of colluding with You Know Who and will remain in the magical prison of Azkaban. Do you have any questions?”

“Yes,” his father said in a weak voice, “When will we have the audience?”

“The date isn’t set. There are so many accusations for them to process and many members of the council have disappeared or been hurt. You’re going to have to wait. Anything else?”

All three of them shook their heads. 

The boat ride was unpleasant. Even though none of them had any intention of escaping, the aurors kept a hold on them the whole time in order to ensure that they didn't disapparated. Draco, who’d never traveled by boat before, discovered that he got sea sick easily and had to press his forehead against his knees so as not to vomit. The boat was propelled by magic, clearly, but did they really have to go so fast?

After what seemed like an eternity, they arrived on solid ground. Draco had his back to the island, but he didn’t want to turn around. He didn’t want to see the tower looming behind him. 

The auror that had brought him twisted his arm to force him up. Draco got to his feet and left the boat, but the abrupt movement made his head spin. He’d barely gotten to the sand when he turned his head to the side and vomited. 

“Oh, boy, tough luck,” commented one of the aurors, who hadn’t spoken until now, with a mocking tone, “They’re not going to feed you for a few hours in here.”

He lifted his head again, feeling the acid burning his throat and mouth, and he shrunk back at the sight of Azkaban’s front walls. It was a metallic colour, and so tall that the highest part was obscured by a thick layer of fog, eliciting a feeling of emptiness and dread that made his blood run cold. 

They began to walk toward the tower’s entrance. The aurors weren’t holding them down any more, given that the island, just like the Hogwarts grounds, was protected so that no one could disapparate. 

When they arrived at the doors of the tower, which were metallic and appeared heavy, two of the aurors went forward in order to open them. 

The reality of the situation finally hit Draco: he was about to enter Azkaban. As a prisoner. For an indefinite amount of time; maybe, if a judge ordered it, the rest of his life. 

His parents began to walk again, escorted by the aurors, but he remained frozen. He couldn’t keep going. His legs began to shake, a yell formed in his throat, and for a moment he thought that he was going to cry. 

“Oi, you, snap out of it!” the auror that had mocked him yelled. Draco tried to take a deep breath to stop shaking, but he could barely bring in any air. 

Impatient, the man walked toward him, grabbed him by the arm, and forced him forward.

“Let’s go, brat, we don’t have all day.”

After crossing through the entrance, they found a lobby filled with around twenty more people, congregated in little groups. Draco saw one of the werewolves that had been living in his house being dragged along by four aurors. Three others were walking toward the door, surely in order to hunt down the death eaters that had gotten away at the end of the battle. 

A woman approached the Malfoys with a look of contempt, and signaled at the aurors to follow her. 

“Dump those three in cell 844. We’re going to need the space,” she said, her voice dripping with disdain. 

“Okay,” answered the woman that had escorted his father. 

They climbed into a lift heading toward the tower’s eighth floor, and walked out into a dark hallway that was even colder than the lobby of the tower. At the other side of the hallway, Draco saw a Dementor. A pang of hopelessness gripped him at that instant, and once again, he thought that he wouldn’t be able to stay on his feet. 

“Smile, asshole,” one of the men on his father said to him, at the same time that the other pulled out a camera and took his father’s photo. Only then did Draco realise that his father had been given a plaque with a number. A second later he was given one as well. When they took his photo, he could barely lift his gaze to the camera before pinning it to the floor, a chill running through his body. 

They also took a photo of his mother, and then brought them to a cell. With the three of them inside, the aurors shut the door and left, some sending one last look of disgust back toward them. 

Draco sat down on the ground in the corner and immediately pulled his knees up to his chest. His mother sat by his side and made an attempt to hug him, but he didn’t return it. His father, on the other hand, began to pace from one side of the cell to the other. 

“At least there’s no Dementors,” he began to say, his tone somewhere between desperate and urgent, while biting his thumbnail. “Well, there was one back in the hallway, but most of them are still loose. It will take the Ministry time to recruit them again. By the time they return, we’ll already be gone.” It seemed like he was trying to convince himself, and Draco tried to silence his internal monologue, tried to drown out all of his emotions so that he wouldn’t burst into tears. That was the last thing that his mother needed right now, and that was the only thing that he could do for her. 

The hours passed. His parents tried to talk with him to distract him, but Draco didn’t answer, afraid that his emotions would explode the moment he opened his mouth, and after a while, they admitted defeat, and fell silent. Every once in a while, they heard more people being locked up in the neighbouring cells. Some of them yelled. Others refused to reply to the aurors. 

At some point that afternoon, three trays of food magically appeared next to the door of the cell, and Draco, who still had the remnants of bile in his mouth, launched himself at the closest one to rid himself of the bad taste and fill his stomach. While he gobbled the food directly off the tray, sitting on the floor, a childish thought crossed his mind: “no one will ever know that a Malfoy has eaten on the floor.”

Somehow, he managed to fall asleep on the terribly uncomfortable bed of the cell that his parents had left him. He spent the night desperately tossing and turning, his mind plagued with nightmares, but sleeping, after all. The next morning, the first thing he was conscious of was the throbbing in his back, but he forgot all about the pain when he turned his attention to the hallway at the sound of someone’s yells. 

“They’re here!”

“They're back!”

He heard a high-pitched shriek from the far side of the hallway, and more and more prisoners began to yell, each scream coming from somewhere closer and closer to their cell. 

Draco barely had time to get out of the bed and peek out between the bars alongside his parents when an abysmal and chilling despair hit him, and he fell to his knees, beginning to yell. 

The dementors were back. 

***

During the next two months, the Malfoys were locked in their past. Draco barely spoke to his parents, so he didn’t know what they were forced to remember. He barely ate. He hardly slept. But he did drink all the water that he could, because he couldn’t stop crying. 

Why had he laughed at Potter for fainting at the sight of the Dementors in third year? Stuck in that cell, Draco was barely able to get to his feet or speak. Sometimes, he was unable to contain his screams. 

Time and time again, he found himself back at the dining table at Malfoy Manor, watching, frozen, as a giant serpent sunk its teeth into the Muggle Studies professor until she bled to death, cheered on by his aunt Bellatrix. 

He saw Crabbe, conjuring the fiendfyre and then his howls of agony while he was burned alive. He felt the heat of the flames surrounding him, coming closer and closer to him to consume him, while he clung as hard as he could to Goyle. 

He remembered, one by one, all the times that he had disapointed his father: from the Quidditch games that he hadn’t won to the moment he’d had to torture a mudblood with the Cruciatus curse for the first time before the eyes of the Dark Lord. He hadn’t been able to cast the curse. He remembered the girl’s screams when, threatened with torture himself if he couldn’t cast it, he managed the curse. And it made him scream as well. 

Time and time again, he saw Dumbledore fall from the Astronomy tower, dead at Snape’s hands, unable to defend himself because Draco had disarmed him. He could remember Potter’s words, saying that all of that had been planned by Dumbledore himself, but that didn’t make him feel any less guilty. 

When the Dememtors moved away from his cell, and he finally had a moment to think without being forced to relive his worst experiences, Draco only could think one thing: I deserve to be here. I deserve to rot in Azkaban. I’m a death eater. I attacked the Boy Who Lived for years. I served the Dark Lord. I did nothing to stop all of the evil that happened around me. I deserve to be here….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you liked it <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading and I hope that you liked it!
> 
> The goal is to update once a week, but I will probably not actually stick to that. We shall see.


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